Centurion Leader? sent Mahnmut, connecting directly via tactical channels.
The two-meter-tall black rockvec turned and snapped to attention. Yes, sir.
Technically, Mahnmut had no command rank in the moravec army, but in practical terms, the rockvecs understood that Mahnmut and Orphu were on the level of commanders such as the legendary Asteague/Che.
Go over to my hornet there and await further orders.
Yes, sir. Mep Ahoo left the evacuation shouts to one of the other rockvecs and jogged to the hornet.
“I have to get Odysseus over to the hornet,” Mahnmut shouted to Hockenberry. “Will you help?”
Hockenberry, who was looking from the convulsions high on the shoulder of Olympos back at the quivering Brane Hole, gave the little moravec a distracted look but nodded and walked with him toward the cluster of Achaean captains.
Mahnmut and Hockenberry strode briskly past the two Ajaxes, Idomeneus, Teucer, and Diomedes to where Odysseus stood frowning at Achilles. The tactician seemed lost in thought.
“Just get him to the hornet,” whispered Mahnmut.
“Son of Laertes,” said Hockenberry.
Odysseus’ head whipped around. “What is it, son of Duane?”
“We have word from your wife, sir.”
“What?” Odysseus scowled and put his hand on his sword hilt. “What are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about your wife, Penelope, mother of Telemachus. She has sent a message to you through us, conveyed by moravec magic.”
“Fuck your moravec magic,” snarled Odysseus, scowling down at Mahnmut. “Go away, Hockenberry, and take that little abomination with you, before I open both of you from crotch to chin. Somehow… I don’t know how, but somehow… I’ve always sensed that these new misfortunes rode in with you and these cursed moravecs.”
“Penelope says to remember your bed,” said Hockenberry, improvising and hoping he remembered his Fitzgerald correctly. He had tended to teach the Iliad and let Professor Smith handle the Odyssey.
“My bed?” frowned Odysseus, stepping away from the other captains. “What are you prattling about?”
“She says to tell you that a description of your marriage bed will be our way of letting you know that this message is truly from her.”
Odysseus pulled his sword and set the side of the razored blade against Hockenberry’s shoulder. “I am not amused. Describe the bed to me. For every error in your description, I will lop off one of your limbs.”
Hockenberry resisted the urge to run or piss himself. “Penelope says to tell you that the frame was inlaid with gold, silver, and ivory, with thongs of oxhide stretched end to end to hold the many soft fleeces and coverlets.”
“Bah,” said Odysseus, “that could describe any great man’s couch. Go away.” Diomedes and Big Ajax had gone over to urge the still-kneeling Achilles to abandon the Amazon queen’s corpse and come with them. The Brane Hole was visibly vibrating now, its edges blurry. The roar from Olympos was so loud now that everyone had to shout to be heard.
“Odysseus!” cried Hockenberry. “This is important. Come with us to hear your message from fair Penelope.”
The short, bearded man turned back to glower at the scholic and moravec. His sword was still raised. “Tell me where I moved the bed after my bride and I moved in, and I may let you keep your arms.”
“You never moved it,” said Hockenberry, his raised voice steady despite his pounding heart. “Penelope says that when you built your palace, you left a strong, straight olive tree where the bedroom is today. She says that you cut away the branches, set the tree into a ceiling of wood, carved the trunk, and left it as one post of your marriage bed. These were words she said to tell you so that you would know that it was truly she who sent her message.”
Odysseus stared for a long minute. Then he slid his sword back in its belt-sheath and said, “Tell me the message, son of Duane. Hurry.” The man glanced at the lowering sky and roaring Olympos. Suddenly a flight of twenty hornets and dropship transports flew out through the Hole, hauling the moravec techs to safety. A series of sonic booms pounded the Martian earth and made running men duck and raise their arms to cover their heads.
“Let’s go over by the moravec machine, son of Laertes. It is a message best delivered in private.”
They walked through the milling, shouting men to where the black hornet crouched on its insectoid landing gear.
“Now, speak, and hurry,” said Odysseus, grasping Hockenberry’s shoulder in his powerful hand.
Mahnmut tightbeamed Mep Ahoo. You have your taser?
Yes, sir.
Taser Odysseus unconscious and load him into the hornet. Take the controls. We’re going up to Phobos immediately.
The rockvec touched Odysseus on the neck, there was a spark, and the bearded man collapsed into the moravec soldier’s barbed arms. Mep Ahoo slid the unconscious Odysseus into the hornet and jumped in, firing up the repellors.
Mahnmut looked around—none of the Achaeans had seemed to notice the kidnapping of one of their captains—and then jumped in next to Odysseus. “Come on,” he said to Hockenberry. “The Hole’s going to collapse any second. Anyone on this side stays on Mars forever.” He glanced up at Olympos. “And forever may be measured in minutes if that volcano blows.”
“I’m not going with you,” said Hockenberry.
“Hockenberry, don’t be crazy!” shouted Mahnmut. “Look over there. All the Achaean top brass—Diomedes, Idomeneus, the Ajaxes, Teucer—they’re all running for the Hole.”
“Achilles isn’t,” said Hockenberry, leaning closer to be heard. Sparks were falling all around, rattling on the roof of the hornet like hot hail.
“Achilles has lost his mind,” shouted Mahnmut, thinking Shall I have Mep Ahoo taser Hockenberry?
As if reading his mind, Orphu came on the tightbeam. Mahnmut had forgotten that all this real-time video and sound was still being relayed up to Phobos and Queen Mab.
Don’t zap him, sent Mahnmut. We owe Hockenberry that. Let him make up his own mind.
By the time he does, he’ll be dead, sent Orphu of Io.
He was dead once, sent Mahnmut. Perhaps he wants to be again.
To Hockenberry, Mahnmut shouted, “Come on. Jump in! We need you aboard the Earth-ship, Thomas.”
Hockenberry blinked at the use of his first name. Then he shook his head.
“Don’t you want to see Earth again?” shouted the little moravec. The hornet was shaking on its gear as the ground vibrated with marsquake tremors. The clouds of sulfur and ash were swirling around the Brane Hole, which seemed to be growing smaller. Mahnmut realized that if he could keep Hockenberry talking another minute or two, the human would have no choice but to come with them.
Hockenberry took a step away from the hornet and gestured toward the last of the fleeing Achaeans, the dead Amazons, the dead horses, and the distant walls of Ilium and warring armies just visible through the now vibrating Brane Hole.
“I made this mess,” said Hockenberry. “Or at least I helped make it. I think I should stay and try to clean it up.”
Mahnmut pointed toward the war going on beyond the Brane Hole. “Ilium is going to fall, Hockenberry. The ‘vec forcefields and air defenses and anti-QT fields are gone.”
Hockenberry smiled even while shielding his face from the falling embers and ash. “Et quae vagos vincina prospiciens Scythas ripam catervis Ponticam viduis ferit excisa ferro est, Pergannum incubuit sibi,” he shouted.